


Useless Dh'oine

by bardlingb



Series: gift fics! [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Drabble, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hen Llinge | Elder Speech (The Witcher), M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Other, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardlingb/pseuds/bardlingb
Summary: The Leader of the Free Elves, The King of the Silver Towers, Filavandrel aén Fidháil has just asked you to kneel before him...
Relationships: Filavandrel aén Fidháil/Reader
Series: gift fics! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175300
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Useless Dh'oine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stonecoldsilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldsilly/gifts).



> Written for my extended valentines week, for my love sweet @stonecoldsilly (on here and on twitter follow her!!)  
> I hope you like it!!
> 
> @ Mr. Canton if you see this I am so sorry

When he walks into the throne room, everyone goes silent. All that is heard is the clicking of his boots across the tile as he struts up to the empty throne and falls into the soft cushion, legs splayed wide. The advisors and other court attendants stay silent as Filavandrel aén Fidháil looks every attendant in the eye, one by one - listening to their hearts race as his eyes settle on them. Finally those black eyes come to rest on you. 

You can feel yourself start to sweat. The look of disdain on his face shows just how little he thinks of you, how little he cares about who you are or what you have done to make your way into his court. He hears your heart race and sees you shiver and a ghost of a smile passes his lips. He doesn’t even bother with words, just clicks his fingers and then points at his feet. His eyes never left yours so surely he must mean you? You hastily step in front of him where he stares up at you, his disgust more prominent the closer you are and his eyebrow raised. You drop to your knees, the tile jarring bones roughly that you feel your teeth smash together, rattling your skull. Of course the king wants you to kneel before him - why else would he have called you closer.

You don't realise that you have closed your eyes until you feel a thin hand brush through your hair at the crown of your head. Opening them is jarring - he looks different from this angle: his cheekbones seem ever more shaper, his sneer more wolf like. You immediately feel like prey, this man is your predator and you were in his grasp now. His hand tightens around a fistful of hair, making you gasp and rise up from where you were sitting back, onto your knees properly. The sound is loud in the silent room, almost echoing off the tile. The people around you shuffle uncomfortably and you see his hand in your peripheral dismiss them with a wave. Finally you are alone before the Leader of The Free Elves.

He looks at you like a particularly disgusting bug that he is dissecting, his eyes roaming your face and body. He pulls you in with his fist as he leans closer himself and, inches from your face, whispers, _ ‘You're just here to satisfy me. Is that clear? _ ’ With a nod from you, he shuffles forward until he sits on the edge of the seat and with his free hand pulls aside his robes to show that he is naked underneath. You can see his chubbed up cock, long and thick while still being mostly soft. It sends a jolt through you that he had planned this - placed you into this court position, singled you out, he wanted you.

_ ‘Beg me for it, I wanna hear you beg me for my cock,’  _ Filavandrel orders with a smug look, a command that has you panting. You whine and try to pull away from the grip he has in your hair, trying to get closer to his exposed cock, your tongue out out desperate for a taste. He chuckles lowly and pulls you back more, bringing your attention back to him; _ ‘me’minne, you need to ask nicely,’.  _ You struggle as the words trip out of your mouth, fumbling over them as you rush to ask  _ ‘p-please sir, I need it. I need your cock please sir!’. _

He pulls your face further into his crotch - your mouth automatically opening to take the head of his cock. Suckling and licking around the glans that span the length, your mouth watering as you smell his musk, eyes rolling back when he thickens up enough for you to take him fully into your mouth. He drags you further down, ignoring your gags and attempts to pull back until your nose is buried into the white pubes at the base of his cock. You can hear his groans, feel his hips twitching as your throat quivers around him. Finally he pulls you back, letting you take a breath while he sneers down at you;  _ ‘Caelm dh'oine,’.  _ This was a warning. 

When he fucks into your mouth again you are ready for the intrusion, ready for his cock to slip deeper into your throat. You don’t splutter this time or try to fight it, you just relax and allow him to move your head with the fistfull of hair. He praises you for this, with his head thrown back and his hips moving faster. His grunts are getting louder, his cries becoming more biting -  _ ‘I’ll keep you here on your knees, having you warming my cock from dawn to dusk. You would have to beg me for my come, for my cock to fill your throat. How does that sound?’  _ you eyes roll back as the words go right to your sex, making you throb. You so badly wanted to get up into his lap and sink down on his cock - but you weren’t going to try. This was the king of the silver towers. 

He warns you with a  _ ‘essea deireádh’  _ before holding your head down, his cock as deep as he can force it down your throat. You swallow everything, licking his cock clean when he finally lets you go. You relax back on your feet, still kneeling in front of him - whilst you look freshly fucked, with your lips red and tear tracks running down your face; he looks indifferent, not even a flush as he rights his robes to cover himself once more. He stares at you, while you beg with your eyes - not daring to speak unless he asks you to. You so badly want to come, want him to pull you into his lap so he can finish you off. This does not happen, instead he quirks an eyebrow and waves you off,  _ ‘va fáill’.  _

As you stand, you notice that his eyes are still wandering, still haven’t left you. You bow at your king and head off, perhaps to find a dark corner to finish yourself off. You can feel his eyes burning into the skin at your back as you make your way out of the court. Perhaps he was just as enamored with you as you were with him, perhaps this wouldn’t be the only time this happens. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me’minne - my love  
> Caelm dh'oine - Calm human  
> essea deireádh - I’m finish(ing)  
> va fáill - goodbye


End file.
